Wild Onions
by Naqia
Summary: Peeta and I hadn't exactly defined our relationship, but neither of us dated on unspoken agreement. I never felt the need to ask him why but I knew why I did not: because I simply wasn't interested in anybody else. I had Peeta and that was enough. And inside I had hoped he felt the same way. How wrong I was.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, never have, never will.

A/N: Fremus prompted me with Everlark fluff in the Alps for her birthday. Which was ages ago, I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm just that late to the party and the last part I have yet to write. Anyway thank you for being such an awesome friend, Fremus!

Thank you Katie for helping me out and making my gibberish readable, for your helpful comments and your sage advice. And for putting up with me!

* * *

_It's been three years_, I think as I finally head down towards the exit. I weave through the groups that seem to be stepping in my way intentionally. Or maybe I am just tired. My luggage seems to get heavier by the minute and the walk feels endless. My head is foggy and aches after the long flight to Vienna, even though I missed half of it because I was sleeping.

No sign of my friend so far, but she has always had a tendency to be late. Either she has overslept- like the time our group of friends wanted to hike through the snowy landscape up to the hut on New Year's and we eventually had to leave without her- or she is stuck in traffic like every other time she has picked me up. Either way, she is almost never on time. I decide to wait on one of the empty grey metal benches, which line the wall few and far between, eventually choosing the one that is farthest from the crowd.

I am trying to ignore the incessant pounding in my head when I remember the little pills Prim packed in the top of my bag. She had the foresight to know that I would probably get a headache.

I swallow them dry and resist the urge to close my eyes and shut out the world. The constant background noise of rolling suitcases, people talking, and heavy foot falls is wearing on me. To say I feel stressed would be an understatement.

"Achtung, Achtung," I hear a bored female voice announce through the PA system and try to pay attention to see what she is saying. Inwardly, I hope it's from Annie looking for me, but I already know that that is unlikely.

Though I've learned some Austrian, I still only understand fragments of the announcement, even less right now since I am tired and having problems focusing. I am glad when she repeats the message in English, but of course the woman is asking the parents of a little girl, named Marie Neuber, to come fetch her from the information center.

I sigh inwardly and glance towards the big clock on the other side of the corridor as my fingers tap silently against my backpack which is sitting in my lap. She is already half an hour late. I am considering searching for a payphone to call her cell when the familiar sound of chiming bells reaches my ears and causes me to perk up. I had almost forgotten about the bells that she wears around her ankle for some reason that she has never told me.

I am still trying to discern the direction the noise is coming from when I see her threading through the crowd. She is a bit out of breath but still grins widely at me and I do the same to her.

"Annie!"

"Oh it's so good to see you," she exclaims in her singsong voice after finally letting go of me to look me up and down. "You look great."

"So do you," I laugh. And she really does, wearing a green summer dress that is clinging to her curves nicely. Her smile does not fade and I decide she must be in a particularly good mood today. I'm glad; she deserves to be happy.

"Are you hungry? Or we should we stop at Billa and get you that apple and herb lemonade that you loved so much? Oh, I should have thought of that before!"

I try to reassure her as we walk to the car that I only want to go to Mistelbrunn, but she still stops to buy me a lemonade, making me wait in her green Audi which has seen better years. "We have a long drive ahead of us," is her only response to my objections.

While I wait for her, tracing my fingers over the small, familiar holes in the dark gray plastic interior, I let my mind wander to the last time I crossed the big pond. I think, not for the first time, that I wish I wouldn't have come back.

I am happy Annie cannot read my thoughts. In fact, if it hadn't been for Prim taking an evening off to come over and talk some sense into me- reminding me that I couldn't let my friend down just because someone had broken my heart- I certainly would have given in to my insecurities and made an excuse about not being able to take time off of work.

But of course my sister had been right, Annie had been my friend for five years. I met her when I first came over at the age of 18 and we had just clicked- the same way my friendship with Peeta had started. Even though we seldom see each other, it works. And after all it is not her fault that she is Peeta's cousin.

We leave Vienna while Annie fills me in about her wedding, her family, and this and that. I simply let her talk, not feeling up to adding much more to the conversation than an occasional word of agreement or a question here and there. Annie doesn't expect me to, which I am thankful for.

Along the road the hills are lined and overgrown with different varieties of grapes. We are still in Weinviertel, the vine region close to the capital, when my eyes start to flutter and I slowly fall asleep again. I am startled awake, after what might be minutes or hours, by the sound of the Bugs Bunny theme song ringing from her cell.

My mind is still too tired to focus on her words at first, but I assume she is talking with her Mama about the wedding until I hear her saying something about Peeta, which wakes me up fully. I swear I am not eavesdropping on purpose, but somehow, even after all these years without talking to each other, he still has that effect on me.

I try to take in the scenery outside instead of listening, but it's hard to ignore Annie as she gets more agitated and, therefore, louder the longer the call lasts. I guess we are somewhere in the middle of the Alps, which is likely considering half of Austria seems to consist of mountains.

"I'm sorry to keep you from the preparations. I know there are tons of other things a bride could be doing one week before her wedding," I apologize when she hangs up with a disgruntled sigh, switching off her phone and tossing it carelessly onto the backseat.

"To be honest, I am happy to escape that madness even if only for a day." She rolls her eyes. "I would have put it off altogether, but then Mama would have gone berserk." I've met Annie's mom, of course. To me she had always just seemed like a nice, calm farmer's wife, as though she could never hurt a fly.

"That bad?"

"Mama is being a bit overbearing. She wants it to be perfect '_since her only child is getting married,''_" she sighs deeply. I chuckle but my heart is not in this conversation because my thoughts keep wandering back to Peeta.

He and I met at Panem High, where he was an exchange student living with the Cartwrights when we were both17. He just sat down to lunch with me one day even though there were other empty tables. He always denied it, but I swear some girl, whose name I have long since forgotten, even waved him over to have lunch with her and her friends. But he chose to sit with me and that didn't change for the entire ten months he spent in Panem.

We soon became friends, though I admit I certainly didn't put much effort into being nice or anything. So, naturally, our first conversations were initiated by him. He kind of grew on me gradually. It was like one day he was asking to be my lab partner in biology class so he wouldn't be paired off with someone else, and before I even realized it had happened we became inseparable, rarely spending our free time without one another. Suddenly little things, like an unintentional brush of his hand or our eyes meeting unexpectedly from across the table, would cause a warm feeling in my stomach.

I never dared to take the first step and neither did he until the day he left for home. It was innocent, as only a first kiss can be, yet it left me wanting more.

But he had to leave that very day. I still remember the look in his eyes before we parted and I must have looked the same. A shy blush had graced his cheeks and his smile spoke of someone who was utterly pleased with himself.

After his departure I felt incomplete. I would have never believed I could miss someone so much after only knowing them for such a short time, someone who was not my family. But _damn_, did I miss my best friend.

The scheduled calls did help a bit, especially when I started working more hours in Abernathy's Grocery. The distraction made it easier, but it was never easy. I spent as little as possible of my income- and so did he from his small pay for working in his parents' bakery- to save for my flights to Austria.

It may seem odd, but despite the distance and seeing each other so seldom, he remained my best friend for three years. And there was always a feeling- he called it "Vorfreude"-which, as I understand it, is like a sensation of anticipation of something pleasant that you know is going to happen. For me, it was a tingling sensation in my stomach that never really left. The anticipation that I would see him again before long, a feeling that only increased until we were together again.

Somehow we managed to see each other every few months, in which nothing more happened between the two of us, and neither of us mentioned it. Since he pretended, so did I; still our hugs became more frequent and lasted too long to be considered friendly. I soaked in the warmth that always lingered on his skin and tried to smell him discreetly in order to have something to remember him by. He always seemed to smell like cinnamon and dill.

We continued in this way until one of his visits to me two years ago. I cannot remember what started it, but one thing lead to another one night. In my memory, I can still feel his tender kisses, his hands on my thighs, and me wanting to taste every part of his body… just this once.

That night he had become my first and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

It was not the only time. In the few weeks we had we'd discovered each other and it all came so naturally that I didn't even think twice about it. We were like friends with benefits- maybe that had been our problem. I know I kind of wanted him to be more. But I also had reservations because there was an ocean between us.

I was afraid to love him but I already did- I never even admitted it to myself until it was too late. I was afraid we would break up, but too scared to talk with him about my fears, so I kept silently to what we had and tried to convince myself it was enough. Perhaps I should have told him, yet he must have known that he was more than an ordinary friend to me.

I mean, we hadn't exactly defined our relationship, but neither of us dated on unspoken agreement. I never felt the need to ask him why but I knew why I did not: because I simply wasn't interested in anybody else. I had Peeta and that was enough. And inside I had hoped he felt the same way, which now seems ridiculous.

But then, out of nowhere, he went on a date with someone else. And that was the moment when our friendship started falling apart. Furthermore it was his brother who had accidentally told me which upset me only more.

I am startled out of my thoughts by Annie's tentative voice, as though she doesn't quite know how to approach me. "Are you afraid of seeing him again?" she asks. Of course she knows and, truth be told, I am afraid to see him. But I don't want to admit that so I just stare silently out the window again. Sometimes no answer is the best answer.

I'm even not sure what scares me the most about it, but I guess it's because I don't know where we stand or how I should treat him. Is he still a friend or a mere acquaintance? Or should I just ignore him as if he's not there? The way things ended between us makes it difficult to discern what is rational and what is caused by my insecurity. As much as I would like to deny it I am still angry, my feelings are still hurt.

"He won't be there until next Thursday," Annie informs me, obviously attempting to sound casual but failing. The wedding is Friday, but I don't ask where he is, even though it seems like he ought to be there since he is her cousin and even more because he is her fiancé, Finnick's, best man. I am just grateful to be granted another few days to avoid it. Whatever _it_ is.

"I don't care." We both know it's a lie but she accepts it nonetheless, probably because she knows better than to push me any further.

We arrive hours later when the sun is already setting and bathing the landscape in a muted orange. The air is still warm and there are mosquitos dancing through the air. I take in a deep breath letting the sweet, heavy scent of pelargoniums lingering in the yard welcome me back.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: As usual, The Hunger Games are the rightful property of Susan Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment, no copyright infringement intended._

_A/N: For those of you who were following this story on AO3: It will be back up around New Year's (as I am going to visit my parents' in no-man's-land in like two hours). I deleted it from both sides (Ao3+ffn) due to personal reasons some days ago. Ffn has some security called recovery (obviously for people like me) so this is why it's still here thankfully._

_Anyway, thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews, I appreciate them all. Have fun with reading the second chapter! A special thank you to Katie, for putting up with me and beta-ing this mess! Thank you fremus for inspiring this and being such a wonderful friend (though I am such a "silly goose" sometimes)!_

* * *

As far as I can tell the wedding preparations go according to plan. I tried on my dress and surprisingly it fit really well considering I have hardly anything that could be considered a curve. Plain is how I would describe my body. "Lean and muscular," Annie corrected me when I had muttered that to myself during the fitting. "I wish I looked more like you. I always look chubby, no matter what."

"No you don't. You look fantastic and you will be the most beautiful bride Mistelbrunn has ever seen!" She beamed at my words and before I could stop her, she had planted a kiss on my cheek and hugged me.

"I should have chosen you as Maid of Honour! You are far more supportive than Johanna!" she declared and we shared a knowing smirk. Johanna is something special. She loves her friend, but her brash manner does not make her especially well-suited to deliver the encouraging compliments that Annie needs to hear- especially since she's feeling insecure.

Annie has chosen green for my dress, knowing full well it was my favourite colour. I also remember that _he_ used to love seeing me in green, but I banish the thought as soon as it enters my mind. I don't think Annie remembers that- she wouldn't do that to me on purpose.

So far, I have successfully avoided Peeta though I know I'll have to see him eventually. I've barely slept the last two nights because he entered each of my dreams, causing my thoughts to spin over and over again with images of what might happen. Scenarios unfold in my mind of whether he will try talking to me- I eventually decide he will not- or whether we will both ignore each other, which is what I hope. I still don't know how to face him, but I do know that I absolutely don't want to. Not that I have a choice in the matter, anyway.

Now tonight is the night for the meeting I have been dreading. Instead of a stag and hens night, Finnick and Annie have opted for a big gathering in the Crestas' barn in honour of their upcoming nuptials. They said they'd rather spend the day with all of their friends and family together instead of splitting them.

I know Peeta will be arriving today, coming home from university. Finn has mentioned once or twice, almost too casually to be casual, that he isn't bringing anyone with him. I don't care about that. Or rather I shouldn't care about that, but it's hard not to when it concerns the one person whom I trusted the most and who hurt me the most. And despite all the time that has passed, there is still a sting inside of me that has faded but never really left me since we broke it off.

There is hardly anything for me to do here at the Crestas'. Annie told me with a wink that I should try to enjoy my time, which I translated to mean I should try to escape her mother's claws while I still can. Having witnessed her mom going crazy over the past few days- something that came as a total surprise having only ever known the woman in a calm and quiet manner- I don't need to be told twice.

I find myself strolling through the familiar trails of the valley, some wide enough that it is easy to follow them, and some barely visible beneath the overgrown grass. These are the ones that I love the most, the ones that thread among the blooming bushes and trees and often lead into tiny clearings or dead end abruptly. Somehow my feet always seem to carry me unconsciously to the lake before I even have a chance to realize where I'm going.

I sit down on one of the big grey rocks, not too far from the treeline, where I can take in the beautiful view and draw in a deep breath. The lake is small, hidden in the woods north of the village and surrounded by trees that are older than the hills. Some oaks, birches and maple trees have dared to grow few and far between, but it is mostly firs whose evergreen branches reach down to smoothly cover the surface. It's so different from home, from what I'm used to, but it has that same peaceful effect on me nonetheless.

A dry heat is lingering in the air and it seems like it hasn't rained in weeks. I can tell that soon the scent of hay will mix itself to the beloved smell of the woods.

On the horizon, further up the treeline, I can see the sturdy surface of the mountains looking down on me, as if they are telling me that they will still be here long after I am gone. Somehow I am reassured by the thought that, despite what ever happens, at least they will never change.

Even further up in that direction, enclosed by a couple of big spruces, is the small, wooden, moss-covered cabin owned by Peeta's parents. He and I used to hike up here frequently when I used to visit him in the summer. Sometimes we would spend days up here without bothering to get back to his family. We could live off of what we brought with us or plucked berries and gathered dandelions – dandelion salad was one of his specialties and I can still taste the bitterness of it. I smile sadly at this memory.

The loud crack of a breaking twig startles me out of my thoughts and I immediately dart a look to the little path that I came from. I get up fast, tripping over my own feet in my haste, and force my face to be straight and neutral as soon as I regain my balance. As far as I knew, he was supposed to be back this afternoon and it's hardly midday by now. But obviously he _is_ here and has had the same idea of seeking some rest in this quiet place.

Although I know I shouldn't, I take a moment to take him in. He looks just as I remember, with that boyish charm about him that he'd had since I first met him at Panem High five years ago. In an attempt to hide my insecurity, I straighten my shoulders and keep my gaze averted downward. I try to brush past him into the woods when his hands wrap around my upper arm to hold me back.

"I hoped I would find you here. I came to talk to you," he says in the voice that I remember so well- soft and full of warmth despite the strange crack that I can't quite fathom. I glance up shortly to find his blue eyes fixed on me intensely. Suddenly, my mud-covered sneakers become the focus of my intent scrutiny.

It hurts to be so close to him again, to know that I hardly seem to have been more than a good lay for him in the past. To know that he never loved me the way I loved him. And I hate that after all this time he still has this effect on me. _Damn his blue eyes_.

"Let me go," I demand, but even I can hear that it comes out meekly. Though the pressure on my skin decreases as his grip loosens a bit I can still feel the warmth of his hands on my skin. It tingles through me despite it all, as if nothing had changed between us. Yet I know that everything has changed and it is this that causes the tears to well in my eyes that I am having a hard time biting back. I do somehow, for whatever it's worth. I want to keep this last bit of dignity. I will not let him see me cry.

"Katniss, don't make this hard for the both of us. We need to talk, preferably without anyone around and before tonight. You cannot side-step me forever." He tries to meet my gaze, but I avoid his eyes at every attempt.

"There is nothing I have to say to you." I think I sound more confident now and with the last bit of strength I can dredge up, I yank my arm free. The warmth is immediately gone and I wish I could say I didn't miss it. However, this is what I need, to take a big step back and get some distance between us to compose myself. I can still feel the heavy lump in my throat, but the tears are no longer threatening to escape.

_I will not cry._

"Katniss, please," he asks and his pleading, velvety tone stings. I don't want to remember; I don't want to relive what he made me go through. Once was enough.

I take a deep breath to gather courage before I reply as calmly as I can, "No Peeta, you made it very clear that you weren't willing to talk to me when you ignored my emails, my phone calls, and every other message I left you!" I am screeching now and I can feel a tear slowly tracing down my cheek and I wipe it away hastily. _Shit. _ "I got the message. From what I have been told from Rye- not because you actually bothered to tell me yourself- you have moved on and so did I. Just because I am back for a few days doesn't mean I will pretend that nothing happened. I am asking you to not speak of it anymore, you hear!" Peeta gulps at my words and I can see how hard he tries to keep his trembling hands at his side.

He makes a tentative step forward causing me to retreat again. "I never wanted to hurt you," he says, his voice barely audible but I hear him and a sob escapes my mouth. Somewhere in the woods behind me, a crow squawks.

"But you did," I whisper, more to myself than to him, and wipe the back of my hand across my cheek again. Damn tears!

We stare at each other from barely five feet apart, neither moving nor saying anything, and I try to distinguish the look in his eyes. It might be hopeful, it might be longing, and overall it might exist only in my imagination.

Then he steps forward and envelops me in his arms before I can protest. I try to free myself but he holds me close and I don't have the strength to fight him, so I stand still and let the familiar warmth of his body and his scent draw me- his scent of cinnamon and dill whose presence in my life I didn't even realized I missed until right now. The beat of his heart drums in my ears. I cannot stop shaking and crying while he simply holds me close to his heart, his hand tangled in my braid just like he has done so many times before, his head nuzzled up against mine.

"I'm sorry, Katniss", he murmurs softly against my hair. "I'm so, so sorry." I am crying harder now, letting everything out that I have kept inside myself for so long, crumbling his shirt with my fingers, comforted by the boy who is responsible for my misery. "I wish I never fucked this up."

"But you did, you idiot," I manage to get out in between sobs.

"A day hasn't gone by that I don't regret it," he mumbles. He slowly untangles himself from me so that he can cup my face with his hands. His thumb softly strokes my wet cheek. Blue eyes meet grey.

Our heads come dangerously close, but then I feel his breath on my lips and something in me snaps. The spell that surrounded us and lulled me into a false sense of security breaks. I can think straight again and everything inside of me screams that what I am doing is utterly wrong. Without another word, I push him away and flee into the woods.

I hear him calling after me but I don't look back, nor do I stop until my side stitches so bad that I cannot go on anymore.


End file.
